Icarus of Ysdethe
by Euthanasina
Summary: While Icarus of the familiar Greek myth did "fall to his death", Ysdethe "His Death" turns out to be an island occupied with dreams of the past and future. Love for his father may get him through...the problem is, there is only death at the end.


Wax. The smell of it, the feel of it, dripping with slow, patient agony onto my skin. Even the air seemed to whip me as I fell, caressing my breaking body with the feel of a ubiquitous god. Why, I wondered, was there no God of Regret? How, as well, could Aphrodite the beautiful Goddess of Love not be simultaneously worshipped as the Goddess of Pain?

Hot feathers flapped in my face, and in that split second, I could not fathom it, any of it. Hades was coming for me; I could almost feel the rip in my soul. What had I done to deserve this? Was it really such a wrong to embrace freedom?

After so many years of captivity, so many obstacles in my father's genius…was death to be the price for loving life too dearly?

The questions swarmed my head, and the feathers tore away. Daedalus's cries came from above – "Icarus! Icarus!" The degree of heartbreak contained in that familiar voice rent me to the core.

I could bear it no longer, and the Underworld embraced me with open arms…

I opened my eyes.

I had no idea how much time had elapsed, nor why my skin was gritty with sand and my body ached all over. My robe was damp, and my shoulders throbbed painfully. There were feathers tickling my mouth. I spat them out, finding my throat sore, and the merciless Grecian sun beating down upon my body.

Was I dead? Was Hades looming overhead, even now? I blinked up blankly at the clear blue sky. The sound of the rushing ocean lapped behind me. It was too bright for the Underworld. Perhaps I was on Mount Olympus? My heart swelled with pride at the thought. Maybe my life had been just _too _unfair…maybe flying so high had been such a feat that Zeus was welcoming me in as a god. No, no, that was too far-fetched – but even so, I was a handsome lad, and had been strong before Father was captured. At the very least, it seemed obvious that my life had been spared.

Refreshed with these fulsome ideas, I sat up and found myself wracked with pain. Stinging welts had formed on my skin where the wax from Father's brilliant wings had made contact. All dreams of living on Mount Olympus or swooping beside the sun itself vanished as I writhed with agony, my sores having been reawakened.

Panic laced my thoughts. If I had indeed landed alive, then what in the world was I to do now? The answer came as soon as I thought of the question; of course I would find Father. The very memory of his cries still rang lachrymose in my ears. I would find him, and together we would hide from the King. I would protect Father from his beatings, shield his genius until he invented a tool to shield all of Athens. Then surely we would be spared.

Panting with agony, I dragged myself across the sand to the water and let out a gasp at my own reflection.

I was hideous.

Instead of the nobly straight nose and olive-green eyes I'd expected, my skin was blotchy and scarred, and one of my eyes was permanently deformed. My normally attractive locks of hair fell in sticky clumps over my face, and it hurt the rest of my body even to move. Trembling, I managed to turn around and force back my tears. I was a brave lad of fourteen – a deformed golliwogg of fourteen, at the very least – but I would find a way to pull through, if the gods were on my side. And surely they were, if Zeus had chosen to spare me?

I must have been washed onto the shore after landing in the ocean. Maybe the wings, in some way, slowed my fall. At any rate, I was now on a beach with no sign of other people, and I had no idea which way to go. Somewhere out there on the horizon, Father was waiting…Finally I couldn't stop the tears anymore. Would he even recognize me? Had he gotten away?

Suddenly I heard a shout behind me, and turned around in surprise.

"It's a monster!" shrieked the voice.

It was the voice of a very pretty young girl, a basket on her bare arm and her toga wrapped enticingly around her body. Waves of brown hair cascaded past her breast, and her eyes sparkled like the setting sun. Normally she was the type of girl whom I would have made friends with; now, she dropped her basket in terror and fled deep into the forest.

Overcome with remorse at my horrid looks and equally horrid luck, I made my way after her, ignoring the pain dimming across my feet, shouting, "Wait! Wait!"

The trees were unfamiliar, and so was my path. Occasionally the feminine sob would be audible from ahead, and I would rush unheedingly after it. After a while, it dawned on me that I had no idea where I was, and was utterly exhausted. No girl should have been this far away from her home simply to go harvesting at the beach. As soon as this thought occurred to me, I found it suspicious as well. Why would a girl need a basket at a beach? If she was a fisherman's daughter, a rucksack would do better.

Then a cackle came from behind me, and I turned around, fear already tugging at my heart.

If only I had my knife!

I let out a scream of shock. The monster loomed above me.


End file.
